The Infection
by Hatter-the-Mad
Summary: A large portion of the population of the U.S. is suddenly overcome with a bizzare disease, or infection, and in an effort to contain the epidemic, quarantines the sick in the now-abandoned New York City. This is a story of survival and escape.
1. Chapter 1

The Infection

Mary flung herself down onto her bed, pulling her way-too-heavy backpack up behind her. She had a physics test _tomorrow_, and she was most definitely not ready.

_Cram night,_ she thought, _oh joy._

With an exaggerated groan, she pulled out her lucky red pen and started to write.

And that's when she noticed it: small strings of blue weaving themselves around her arm and, upon further inspection, the rest of her body. _What the…_

Her mother, Anne, was sitting on the couch with her hands covering her mouth, eyes wide. Mary stumbled into the small living room at that moment, her eyes still staring curiously at the small patterns which now covered half her body. "Uhh…Mom…" she stuttered.

"Mary, come here," she commanded in a frightened voice, not once taking her attention off of their old TV set.

Mary folded her arms behind her back and slowly moved to look at the screen.

They were everywhere. They looked just like anyone else, except for the grey-blue skin and bloodshot red eyes. Screaming. Pleading. Chaos.

"Help us, please…!"

"My baby! No!"

"Cure us,"

"Save us,"

They were each answered by men and women in camouflage, shouting orders and brandishing weapons.

The picture was suddenly replaced with a bird's eye view of the center of New York City. The blue people were being herded into one massive group, each one fighting and protesting against the soldiers.

"Where are you going?" Anne called. Mary was already down the hallway.

"Nothing. Just going to the bathroom," she said quietly as she stared at the blue monster in her bathroom mirror. _This can't be happening… a zombie apocalypse. _She gulped. _And _I'm_ the zombie…_

SLAP!

_Wake up! Wake up! _she commanded herself, violently beating her face with her fists.

"Mary!" Anne had come running when she heard the horrible noises coming from the bathroom. She stopped dead at the doorway.

"National Guard! Open up!" a voice commanded just as their front door was shot down. The man was down the hall in a second.

"….INFECTION!" Anne screamed at the top of her lungs, collapsing against the wall, eyes wide.

The two men gripped Mary by the arms, forcing her out the door at gunpoint.

"Mom!" she yelled, beating at the soldiers even though the attempt was pointless.

"Mom!"

She opened her blood-red eyes for the billionth time with invisible tears that refused to flow. The new sun was shining through the dirty window of the abandoned Barnes & Nobel where she now lived among about fifty others around her own age.

She sighed, beating the emotion off of her face and rising to meet the new day.

"G'morning," said a groggy voice from behind her.

"Oh! Sorry, Andrew, didn't mean to wake you up," she said apologetically. Andrew was about sixteen years old and had absolutely no problem with their present "condition." He had been homeless before the outbreak, so the fact that everyone else was finally on the same level with him suited him just fine. He and Mary had met during the first hours of the so-called "zombie-apocalypse," and had stuck by each other ever since, which would be about two years.

"Let me go!" Mary yelled futilely, grabbing the nearest soldier by the shoulders.

"Step back, ma'm!" he yelled, slapping her across the face with the butt of his gun. Mary flew backwards, and suddenly the pavement was far to close.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Infection**

"_Woah!" a voice called from behind her, and suddenly she was caught in the embrace of someone she didn't know. Mary twisted her head around to get a look at her savior, and there was Andrew, glaring at the nearest guard._

_He released her from his grip, but continued to hold her hand. "It's no use! Stay close!" he yelled above all the noise. I followed._

They both pulled on their worn old clothes and headed out into the streets. All along the side of the road, someone had ripped up the concrete and pavement to expose the earth, which the infected now used for farming. They got no help from the outside world.

Andrew handed Mary the old bucket. "You mind getting the water? I'm gonna go ahead to the field," he said, smiling at her. "No problem," she replied wearily, not returning his upbeat smile, and instead walking off toward the small creek at the edge of the city.

Andrew stayed in place, looking after her. _How sad_, he thought dismally.

Mary walked steadily out of the more populated area of the city toward the border.

She enjoyed getting the water. It gave her the privacy she had so taken for granted before the epidemic, because so few people cared to travel so close to the world that had betrayed them.

Her bare feet padded from the coarse pavement to the long, soft grass near the edge of the river. She turned her blue face upward, soaking up the rays. Somewhere in the back of her brain, she probably heard the shouted orders from the border, the soldiers hurrying to get to their stations because one little zombie decided she was thirsty.

So, just to be annoying, she took her time, relishing in the cool, clear water and the slight breeze.

She chuckled quietly. The soldiers were getting restless.

She stood up slowly, taunting them. "Ok… I'm leaving now…" she said, laughing.

_Good gosh_, she thought. _That one looks like he's gonna freakin' wet his pants!_ She burst into a fit of giggles, almost spilling half the bucket.

Andrew was waiting for her, still working but with his eyes trained on the horizon. _Finally,_ he thought as her slight figure appeared on the horizon.

"Hey," she said, still breathless with laughter. Andrew grinned wide. "what's so hilarious?" he asked.

Mary spun to face him, her face radiant with the early rays of dawn, eyes wide, lips pulled back in an equally wide grin. "Absolutely nothing."

Anne sat back in her leather chair, watching the live feed of her daughter getting the water for what seemed like the billionth morning. Anne was never late. After all, her little girl was depending on her.

She was depending on her…

Anne turned away in self disgust. She could remember all too clearly the night Mary Lee was taken. Every detail in sharp focus, how she had done nothing to help her own blood except persecute her with one, fatal word: infection. And now, even years later, all she did was sit and stare, unable to help her.

There was a knock on the door. "Ms. Vice President, the President will see you now," her secretary said, peeking through a small crack in the door.

Mr. president sat at his desk, looking over a tremendous amount of files on Magdalene. He glanced at her briefly through his spectacles. "You can guess what this is about?" he asked while motioning to the stack of documents and photos. "Of course," Anne replied formally. "Are there any leads on Magdalene," she asked, glancing at the photographs of the all-too-familiar black mask.

"No," he said bluntly.

Silence.

Anne cleared her throat nervously. "Well… We have a definite number of tribes?" she said it as if it was a question.

"Mm."

"Um…well, there are five…sir."

"That's too many," he said. "I would have had them all exterminated by now, but of course that would be 'inhumane.' If you ask me, it's inhumane letting them live, what with their condition and all… imagine if one of them managed to get out, somehow, and touched someone. It would spell disaster," he mumbled angrily, taking a large sip of his coffee.

Anne gripped the edge of the table so tight her knuckles were white. "They're Americans too, you know," She said, barely containing the fury and venom in her voice.

The president tsked quietly. "Sometimes you got to step on a pair of boots to keep off the stilettos." He downed the last of his coffee, gulping noisily.

"Get me s'more of this stuff, will ya?"

Mary's bare feet pounded the pavement as hard as she could, flying past crumbling buildings and the occasional cluster of people gathered on the sides of the street. Her friend Ruth, who had also been caught by the epidemic, was having a baby. The first child of the new New York as it had come to be called.

She was not the only person rushing to her side, either, she noticed, finally seeing the other people speeding next to her.

She sprinted up the unstable steps half-exposed to the outside toward the apartment Ruth had managed to hold in the earliest days of their new life in the new New York.

_Ruth grabbed Daniels hand, weaving in between the abandoned cars on the side of the road. Their breathing was hard and ragged, their eyes wary and constantly on alert. Sirens wailed a disjointed rhythm around them as the NYPD searched the streets randomly, not sure what, exactly, to do in such a time of confusion, horror, and chaos. _

_They were almost to the harbor when a soldier grabbed Daniel from behind, shining his flashlight directly into his face. "We've got one!" the soldier yelled. "No! Run, Ruth!" Daniel yelled, struggling against the three soldiers now holding him down, cuffing his hands behind his back. _

_Hot tears ran down Ruth's face as she turned away from Daniel for what appeared to be the last time. She turned and ran towards the water with every ounce of strength she had, when an armed soldier stepped directly into her path, gun aimed for her forehead. Ruth stopped dead, hands in the air, her thoughts a blur. And as the soldier chained her hands behind her back, Ruth laughed, because maybe Daniel wasn't lost after all, and Daniel wept, because maybe Ruth was lost after all._

Mary burst into the tiny room, her chest heaving with the force of her run.

"C'mon Ruth, you can do it!" Daniel yelled, obviously panicked.

"AAAAAAAHH!!" Ruth answered from her place on the bed.

"Ruth, Ruth, I love you… c'mon, just push a little harder…"

"AAAAAHH!! GET HER OOOOUT!!" She replied.

A few minutes later, an exhausted Ruth lay in her bed, but this time with a healthy baby girl sleeping in her arms. "Millennium..," She murmured lovingly. Daniel stood over her, smiling and laughing, simply giddy with relief.

"She's beautiful, Ruth," Mary said, stroking the smooth skin on the top of the baby's head. "I know," Ruth said, closing her eyes, exhausted.

Just then three young teens burst through the door, eyes wide and focused on Millennium. They carried armloads of multicolored fabrics and other such goods that were hard to come by in the city. "It's for her," The apparent leader said. "For the baby. From the Crumbling Spires tribe." She announced, setting the valuables by Ruth's bed, backing out of the door now that their mission was accomplished. Ruth stared after them with wide eyes.

She turned to Mary. "Another group…" she seemed to lose the ability to speak.

Daniel cleared his throat and turned to the others, understanding the look that passed between Mary and Ruth. "Maybe we should… Give the new mother some air," He said, gesturing toward the doorway.

Once the others were gone, Ruth turned to Mary. "Don't you dare use her for some political stunt, Magdalene," she said, holding Millennium tightly. Mary's jaw dropped open in shock. "Who do you think I am? I would never do that to her, and you know it," Mary protested, folding her arms.

Ruth hesitated. "I know how much you hate our… Condition…and believe me, I do to… to an extent. But I'm just warning you, my priorities are different. Millennium will always come first," She said, eyes fierce and protective.

"I can understand that… To an extent," Mary replied. She reached across Ruth, gently lifting the tiny little girl into her own arms. "But I still believe she deserves better."

Ruth nodded. "Yes." Millennium began to whimper, twisting around in Mary's arms. Mary smiled and kissed her lightly on the forehead, thinking _maybe I'll have one… someday. Someday better. _

Just then Millennium let loose a loud cry, and the room was suddenly filled with a most unpleasant aroma.

_Errr… maybe not,_ she corrected, holding the child at arms length. Ruth flopped down on the pillow in exhaustion.

"DANIEL!"

"Coming, sweetheart!" Mary lifted the corner of her lips in a sympathetic half smile as Daniel dashed into the room, quickly scooping up Millennium and rushing into the small bathroom (which contained no running water, by the way).

"You're a demon, Ruth," Mary commented.

"Yup," Ruth closed her eyes and rolled onto her side, content.

Mary rolled her eyes and glanced out of the open doorway; it was almost dark, the tall contorted columns rising up against the orange and gold sunset.

_Almost time for the council… I'm gonna be late!_

"See you later, gotta run!" Mary called, already flying down the stairs. Not that Ruth would hear, seeing as how she was already asleep.

The wide windows of the Barnes & Nobel glowed orange as she rounded the corner onto Tomahawk territory. The others were all gathered around a large campfire in the middle of the store, talking and telling jokes late into the night, as was usual.

Mary slinked in through one of the side doors quietly, eyes trained on the group, hoping they wouldn't notice her. It wasn't that she didn't like her "brothers and sisters", but she preferred to slip away into the night undisturbed, melting into the blackness.

She made her way silently to the aisle where she normally slept, dawning the black ankle-length dress and worn moccasins she was known for wearing, snatching her mask from it's resting place among the bundles of fabric strewn across the floor for bedding. This meeting of the tribes normally occurred once every two months, but lately the armed soldiers had been venturing farther and farther into the city. Whether they were ordered to do, or if it was simply a foolish dare by some young, and apparently stupid, soldiers, the tribes were worried. It had to end, either peacefully… or violently. Mary closed her eyes. For the sake of their very survival, she hoped the current president would be willing to listen. And if not… then war it was, then.

She shook her head slowly. _I'm jumping to conclusions, _she thought. _How could a few soldiers lead to our very downfall? It's probably nothing. _And with that, she disappeared into the night.


End file.
